


It's your turn

by wintersyzygy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Brooding, Fluff, Humor, Kuroo doesn't know what he's doing, M/M, Or does he, Prologue & Epilogue in Kuroo's pov, Some crack moments, The Marks We Leave AU, Tsukishima is in denial, kuroo is in college
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5854009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersyzygy/pseuds/wintersyzygy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where falling in love with someone meant getting marked by their birth tattoo, Tsukishima was perfectly fine with having just one - his own. </p><p>Kuroo was not supposed to come up to him and go, "You left your mark on me, so it’s my turn to leave one on you."</p><p>(And Tsukishima was not supposed to have lost the game before it had even started.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was too tempting. It was meant to have been a simple one-shot, but then the ideas just kept coming... and now, all we have here is the prologue. I hope it's enough to whet your appetites? More on the concept in the introductory chapter, which will be up soon!
> 
> (To my friend who may or may not actually read this: I LISTENED TO YOU AND HERE IT IS)

_4 hours later_

By all accounts, it was supposed to have been a triumphant night for one Kuroo Tetsurou. Instead, he was collapsed on the sofa and acting as an unwilling source of amusement for his roommate Bokuto and soon-to-be-flatmate Akaashi.

Ah, how the mighty hath fallen by a single blow. 

Kuroo could practically feel the vibes of curiosity being emanated by his companions. They were obviously waiting for the story, and from the way Bokuto had gone from making out with Akaashi to repeatedly prodding Kuroo’s arm and questioning his state of mortality, one of them was definitely getting impatient.

 _Fine._ Let the tale that Kuroo was brave, even when faced with questionable circumstances of _debatably_ his own creation, pass down in ages to come.

“I broke him.” Kuroo mumbled into a cushion, by way of explanation.

“Pft.” Bokuto waved his hand in disbelief, unintentionally knocking Kuroo’s head. Kuroo was quite annoyed by that, so he poked him back blindly. From the yelp of pain, he must have managed to strike the bruise on Bokuto’s ribs.

“I think that’s quite unlikely.” Akaashi added kindly, amidst the minor commotion.

“ _No,_ you don’t understand,” Kuroo looked up from the cushion with a haunted expression. "It was horrifying."  
  
“What did you say?” Bokuto somehow looked too eager.

Kuroo resumed his position of death and muttered something quite unintelligible.

“ _What?”_ Akaashi furrowed his brows.  
  
“I _said,_ you left your mark on me, so it’s my turn to leave one on you.” Kuroo repeated in the manner of someone who was on his deathbed. “And then I whipped my scarf off quite fabulously.”

Silence fell upon the three men in the house, until Bokuto broke it with a low whistle.

“What was his response?” Akaashi prompted.

“…He _laughed_.”

Silence ensued again.

“He’ll recover sometime.” Akaashi said, while Bokuto patted Kuroo’s shoulder in a sign of brotherhood. “He was probably just appalled at the childishness.”

Kuroo threw the cushion he’d been smothering himself with in the general direction of Akaashi. Sadly for him, Bokuto managed to intercept the cushion in the middle of its course toward Akaashi’s face, earning himself a small peck on the lips as a reward.

Meanwhile, Kuroo groaned at the loss of his neck support, as well as his unfortunate role as third-wheel. Was he to be consigned to this for all eternity? He absently rubbed the (newest) wing-like tattoo on his neck. 

If only he picked easier conquests.

(Ha – who was he kidding?)

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great response! This was supposed to be up earlier, but starting school is busier than what I had hoped :/ 
> 
> Also: This is where the brooding tag came from. It'll be more fun from next chap, for obvious reasons!

Tsukishima woke up to the delightful snores of his teammates and a searing sensation on his chest. To be fair, it wasn’t so much a sharp pain as a dull ache at this point, but he thought he still had the right to complain. Maybe it was because this was his first mark, barring his own, but the persistent pain he was experiencing suggested that it was likelier that he was one of those ‘unfortunate ones’ who actually felt the pain that was supposed to come with getting tattooed.

…Just as well that it was he and not Akiteru who had this problem. With the way _he_ fell in love, being rendered paralysed by pain was an actual possibility.

The digital watch blinking next to Tsukishima showed that it was only six in the morning. He could afford to get another hour of sleep, but he doubted that he could even if he tried. Taking care to be as silent as he could, he sat up and reached out to grab the clothes that he’d had the foresight to prepare the night before. He had always liked the silence that came with showering before everyone got up. _Now,_ though, there was also the added impetus of preventing anyone from seeing the new tattoo.

Tsukishima took a quick glance around the room. The first-years at the back of the room were all asleep; same went for Hinata, Kageyama, Yamaguchi… Thanking the heavens that Yamaguchi was a heavy sleeper, Tsukishima quickly stepped past him and slipped out of the room. The corridors were empty and the communal bathroom was dark, which meant that none of the third-years were up and about either.

If he were Tanaka or Nishinoya, it wouldn’t be a problem. No one would blink if they saw a few extra swirls peeking out of their collars where there had been bare flesh before. It made no difference since they were already so decorated. Tsukishima, on the other hand, would get pestered and questioned endlessly thanks to his relatively unblemished flesh.

After turning on the lights, he made quick work of taking off his clothes and turning on the faucet, gritting his teeth as the freezing cold water drenched him. He’d prefer a hot shower, but the cool water provided better relief for the soreness that was the area just under his left collarbone. He reached out a finger to lightly brush against the irritated skin, trying to ascertain if it had indeed, got better. 

It disgusted him. 

(How could he have let it get so far?)

But he had to admit that, as a mark, it was one of the best he could have hoped for in terms of design and location.

The tattoo was roughly the size of his palm, if a bit longer, and could be comfortably hidden under any shirt. It was undeniably tribal in style, being composed entirely of curved lines and shapes that swirled together, feathered and intersected. It was certainly intricate if you tried to separate it into its parts, but as a whole, it looked surprisingly simple, if abstract. If Tsukishima had to define its shape, he would say it was based on a Felidae or an arrow with two heads.

…Purely in terms of aesthetic quality, it actually matched quite well with Tsukishima’s own birth tattoo on his neck. Not that that mattered.

At any rate, Tsukishima was no expert (hell, he was probably one of the most inexperienced of the lot) when it came to the mysteries of birth tattoos, but he knew enough to know that everyone’s was unique. Shape, size, location… even colour, although variations from black were apparently, very rare. The part that everyone was more concerned with, though, was the ‘love tattoo’ phenomenon: when someone fell in love with another person, the birth tattoo of the latter would manifest on the same part of the body as the former – marking him, in a way.

At least, that was the basic mechanism for most people. Tsukishima’s case was somewhat special, if not unheard of. Not just because of the pain, but also because the tattoo had somehow manifested below his collarbone instead of on and above it, like how it was on its owner. Granted, it was a mere ten-centimetre difference, but that meant the world when it came to visibility. How or why, he didn’t really care. No looking in the gift horse’s mouth for him, thank you very much.

The part that most annoyed Tsukishima, however, was the fact that he’d even let himself get marked. _That_ was bad enough, but the identity of its owner just made everything even worse. He was sure that if _he_ ever found out, Tsukishima would get an endless lifetime’s worth of taunts and teases and then he’d have to commit murder and migrate to Alaska because of it. Honestly, there must be something wrong with the mechanism of his body, because he was _very_ sure that all he felt for _him_ was the slightest promotion from indifference, and there was no way that translated to – _that._

As it was, Tsukishima wasn’t unobservant or oblivious, unlike certain individuals who couldn’t take a hint if it was shoved right down their throats. In this case, the information had indeed been metaphorically shoved down his throat, since the ex-Nekoma captain was not stingy about providing information about his tattoos.

(But, that meant _him,_ ~~liking~~ _Kuroo_ and Tsukishima could not – _would not –_ wrap his head around the utter inconceivability of the idea. It created a whole new set of questions and problems that he really did not want to think about. At all. Whatever mystical force out there that was fuelling this process must have made an error.)

It was just as well for his sanity that right at that moment, he heard two sets of footsteps that really sounded more like a herd of elephants stampeding toward the shower cubicles. Tsukishima turned off the faucet, dried himself off and yanked his shirt on with a disproportionate amount of violence, all in the span of thirty seconds. Distraction-wise, it indeed was pretty good timing for oblivious idiots one and two to come racing in, only to skid to a halt, crash into each other, and get snickered at by him as he left the room.

But, it was very bad timing for Tsukishima’s phone to vibrate and ominously insist that new messages had been received. He couldn’t shake off the impending sense of doom as he unlocked his phone. 

**Bokuto: heyyy**

**Bokuto: guess whos here bringing osm back \O/**

**Kuroo: Miss me? ;)**

Tsukishima groaned, wondering how he could have missed the hints that they had been planning something. It had only been a week. This was too much, too soon. Perhaps, he should reconsider his views on karma after all.


End file.
